


Not My Thing

by Laylah



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crossover, First Time, Fusion, M/M, Military, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-17
Updated: 2008-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 12:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kimberly meets his eyes, mako glowing sickly bright like bootleg herbal liquor out of Rocket Town. “I should turn you down just to see the look on your face.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not My Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ground Rules](https://archiveofourown.org/works/49076) by [White Aster (white_aster)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster). 
  * Inspired by [On The Town](https://archiveofourown.org/works/49070) by [White Aster (white_aster)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster). 



Greed finds himself watching Kimberly more, after the night they all go dancing. Not that he’d been doing a stellar job at ignoring the kid in the first place. But it’s bad enough now that the rest of the Pack is starting to notice, bad enough that Law makes a crack about sloppy seconds one afternoon when Greed is watching Kimberly polish his boots, instead of paying attention to Dorochet and Martel while they give Elric a refresher course in hand-to-hand against multiple opponents.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Greed says, watching the way Kimberly is not-watching Elric as ostentatiously as possible.

“Hmm,” Law says, which means, _I hope you know I know you’re a big fat liar._

“Besides,” Greed says, studying a smear of black boot polish on Kimberly’s forearm. “It’s not like I’d be after the same thing she got, anyway.”

“Huh,” Law says, which means, _Are you sure about that?_

Greed just smiles.

* * *

“It’s not my thing,” Kimberly says. He’s casual about it, like whether or not he wants cock is about as big a deal, on the preferences scale, as what kind of toppings he orders on his pizza.

Greed rolls his eyes. “The hell it’s not,” he says. “Next thing you’ll be telling me you watch Elric like that because you wanna take care of the kid.”

“Wanting to catch Elric alone in the shower is one thing,” Kimberly retorts. “You,” and his eyes flick up and down, appraising Greed in a frank and hungry and _callous_ way, “are something completely different.”

“Too much for you to handle?” Greed asks.

Kimberly surprises him by _not_ taking offense. “Maybe,” he shrugs. “You got a nice big cock, captain? You wanna see me on it?”

If he didn’t before, he does now. “Maybe,” Greed says. “Catch me alone in the shower sometime, you might find out.”

“Told you,” Kimberly says, shaking his head. “Not my thing.” For about half a second, he looks as young as he actually is.

Greed shrugs. “No big deal,” he says. Kimberly’s lying to him, but it’s the kind of lie that he can let slide. He’ll get what he wants eventually. He always does.

* * *

The next time the Pack goes out drinking, Kimberly has way too much, even though he mostly has to buy for himself. It makes him loose-limbed and flirty, yellow eyes half-lidded and his accent just a little thicker than usual. He leans on Greed for about half the trip home, and kisses him sloppily, soft lips and wet tongue and the taste of whiskey, when they get back to the barracks.

Greed dumps him in his bunk, helps get his boots off, and goes to find Martel.

In the morning, Kimberly’s more obnoxious than usual, kicking things and complaining about his hangover until Elric throws a potion at his head. Kimberly catches it instead of getting hit in the face, and then they’re both upset.

When Kimberly stalks off to the showers, Greed gives him about a minute and a half, and then goes after him.

He ignores Kimberly completely when he first gets there. He turns on one of the taps — leaving one vacant between him and Kimberly, back in the corner — and lets the water spatter against the tile, warming up slowly while he strips.

Kimberly’s not watching him. But it’s the same kind of not-watching that Elric was getting in that three-way spar. Greed stretches, working the kinks out of his back, and steps into the spray.

When he bothers to look up, Kimberly is staring at him. Blatantly, confrontationally, the kind of stare that makes dogs attack people. “So, what was that, last night? You talk big, but you don’t mean it?”

The directness is probably supposed to throw him off-balance. Instead Greed finds it refreshing, _simple_. He drops a soap-slick hand to his cock, since Kimberly’s watching, and strokes himself slowly. “You were drunk.”

“Please.” Kimberly shakes his head at the excuse, but he doesn’t stop watching. Greed is suddenly certain that he’s picked fights like this before. “Last weekend you fucked Dorochet when he was too drunk to walk.”

“Yeah,” Greed says, remembering how that felt, how fucking _shameless_ Dorochet gets when he’s good and sloppy drunk. “But only because I already knew he wanted it sober, too. Whereas you….” He shrugs. “Not your thing, right?”

Kimberly glares, and Greed smirks. Looks like most people aren’t quite good enough at calling Kimberly on his lies. “Prick,” Kimberly says. He hasn’t touched his cock since Greed got here, but he’s about half-hard, maybe from the free show, maybe from the hope of getting in a fight.

Greed doesn’t really care why.

“Or maybe you were being more specific than it sounded,” he says. He crosses the empty space between them, the cold tile that hasn’t been warmed by shower spray, and steps into Kimberly’s personal space. “Because if you just meant you didn’t want to get fucked, well, that’s no problem.”

Kimberly’s not touching him, and not backing off, either, and Greed wonders if _he’s_ the one who’s all talk. He’s certainly tense enough. “You have something else in mind, captain?”

“Tell me you don’t want me to suck your cock, and I’ll back off,” Greed counters.

Kimberly meets his eyes, mako glowing sickly bright like bootleg herbal liquor out of Rocket Town. “I should turn you down just to see the look on your face.”

Greed shrugs. “I can get it somewhere else.” He slides just a little bit closer, water spattering against the back of his shoulder as he makes Kimberly just that much more uncomfortable.

“You saying I can’t?” Kimberly _still_ won’t give a centimeter, something Greed thinks he should remember when he has to take the rookies into combat.

“Just saying I won’t go hungry, if you don’t give me something to suck on,” Greed says. “How about it, kid? Am I wasting my time?”

Kimberly takes a deep breath and this could still go either way, and then he says, “Do it,” like it’s a dare.

Greed drops to his knees and wraps his hands around Kimberly’s hips to hold him still, and the kid’s got a really nice cock, well-proportioned and nicely shaped, and he makes a sweet little gasping noise when Greed takes him in. He tastes good, too, clean and sharp, his cock hardening in Greed’s mouth.

When Kimberly drops a careful hand to the back of Greed’s neck, Greed moans, reaches up to move his hand for him: yes, go ahead, snarl your fingers in my hair, fuck my throat like you mean it. Kimberly hesitates for a few seconds like he’s making sure, or giving Greed a chance to take it back, and then rolls his hips lazily.

Greed relaxes and lets him do it, swallowing as Kimberly thrusts in, enjoying the smooth glide of slick flesh against his lips and tongue. He reaches down and wraps a hand around his own cock, stroking lazily — not trying to get off, not yet. There’ll be plenty of time to let Kimberly help with that in a little bit, after the kid’s gotten what he wants. And Kimberly’s trying to take his time with it, Greed can tell, trying to draw this out and enjoy having his cock in his commanding officer’s mouth — not a privilege most soldiers get every day — but it’s starting to get to him despite himself. His rhythm’s still slow, but it’s getting shaky, his grip tightening reflexively in Greed’s hair — and then he lets out his breath in a low rush like he’s just been hit in the gut, and comes down Greed’s throat.

He lets go almost immediately, stepping back into the shower spray and rinsing off spit and traces of come as Greed stands up. Kimberly won’t meet Greed’s eyes anymore, just tries to slide past him and head for the door.

Greed grabs him by the arm. “You in a hurry to get somewhere?”

Kimberly glares at him. “Let go,” he says. “Sir.”

Greed shakes his head. “Don’t start that shit now. You didn’t care about rank ten minutes ago.” He pulls Kimberly closer, wraps both arms around him. “I don’t know what you had before you got here, and it doesn’t matter. None of my damn business, right? But the Pack doesn’t work that way.”

Kimberly’s hands are tight around Greed’s arms, holding him back or just holding on, one of the two. “Sure it does. You’re abusing your authority right now. Sir.”

“I told you, cut that out.” Greed strokes Kimberly’s back, murmurs in his ear. “You want to mess around with someone and not have to treat them right, you go get yourself a whore. Or pick up some piece of trash in a club. I don’t care. But we take care of each other. Anything you start with one of us, you’d better be ready to finish.”

The weird thing is, Kimberly doesn’t lash out, doesn’t try to knee him in the balls or sink teeth into his throat or anything. Instead he nods, just once, and his grip loosens as he licks water from the line of Greed’s collarbone. “Still not letting you fuck me,” he says, but he doesn’t sound angry anymore.

“Never said you had to,” Greed says, letting his head fall back so Kimberly can bite at his throat. “And I’ll tell you that as many times as I have to for it to sink in.”

Kimberly nods. “Okay.” He slides one hand down Greed’s chest, over his stomach, and gingerly takes hold of his cock. Greed wonders if the bravado and hostility is actually covering for inexperience.

Then Kimberly sinks to his knees, hand steady now around the base of Greed’s cock, and looks up. “I don’t go for that choking shit, just so you know.”

Greed smiles. He’s flexible. “Show me what you do go for, then,” he says, and leans back against the tile, legs spread just enough to give him some balance.

Kimberly nods and licks his lips and no, Greed was wrong, Kimberly _has_ done this before. Probably a lot more than once, from the way he slips immediately into a steady, smooth rhythm and the way he curls his tongue against the sensitive spot at the base of the head. He keeps his hand where it is, working the base of Greed’s cock instead of taking all of it down his throat, but in the warm water of the shower it doesn’t feel much different, and it’d probably be plenty good anyway.

It’s fucking sweet right now, Kimberly’s mouth and hand and the picture the kid makes, kneeling on the floor with water running down his skin, tracing the shapes of bones and muscles and all at once Greed realizes that he doesn’t give a damn _who_ gets fucked, but if they don’t end up in bed together at some point so he can really feel that body move, he’s going to kill things.

“You’re good,” Greed says, hand on Kimberly’s shoulder. “God, so fucking good.”

Kimberly makes a smug little noise low in his throat, which doesn’t surprise Greed at all; of course the kid knows he’s good at this, just like he knows he’s good at everything else. Greed remembers the self-congratulatory little smirk on Kimberly’s face at the end of their last session on the firing range, the casual arrogance in the way he moved, and the idea that he has _that_ confident bastard on the floor sucking him off — Greed moans, tension gathering at the base of his cock, his balls drawing tight — and he rocks his hips back just as he feels it start, so that he pulls free and shoots on Kimberly’s face.

He can _watch_ the tension spike in Kimberly’s shoulders, and immediately gets his hands under Kimberly’s arms, pulling the kid up. The hot water, for a miracle, hasn’t failed yet, and he steers Kimberly into its path. “ _Damn_ good,” Greed says, nuzzling and licking, stroking Kimberly’s back and feeling him slowly relax.

“Don’t do that again,” Kimberly says, tilting his head back, offering his cheek for Greed to lick him clean.

“Mmm,” Greed says, licking his own come off Kimberly’s cheekbone. Damn, but the kid’s hot. “Okay.”

Kimberly pulls back, raises an eyebrow at him. “Just like that? Okay?”

“Sure.” Greed shrugs, drops his arms so they’re wrapped loosely around Kimberly’s waist. “I meant it, when I said it was different here. You want something — you don’t want something — ask. You’d be surprised how far it’ll get you.”

“Huh,” Kimberly says. Greed can’t read him as well as he can read Law, but he’d bet that means something like, _We’ll see about that._ “I’ll give it a try.”


End file.
